Drunk on a Plane
by Anna Lane
Summary: When you're left at the alter, there's really only one thing to do: Go on your honeymoon flight anyway and make the best of it! Citrusy fluff. Oneshot, sorta songfic-like (Inspired by the Dierks Bentley song of the same name, but contains no lyrics). Delena w/ snippets of Klaroline


**A/N:(I know it's an unrealistic airplane flight ;)**

* * *

There they were. Two plane tickets, sticking out of the envelope on what would have been their marriage bed, right alongside a sheet of unfinished vows and a small note that said simply, _I'm Sorry._

She'd chosen the place. Cancun. Even had an overflowing suitcase all packed with new swimsuits and sundresses, some lingerie. Seemed like she hadn't known she wouldn't get that far.

He hadn't wanted to spend the money on such an expensive destination. Or hotel. Or any of it. Not for a mere two weeks of the rest of their life. Guess now it didn't matter.

It was right there on the bed for the abandoned party to do with what they wished.

Shaking, ringless fingers reached down to pick up the envelope. The hand gripped the tickets hard. This wasn't what was hoped to find in the empty bedroom when they raced from the abandoned alter to get here. Their lover, their spouse-to-be, had only been delayed, only injured or overdue. Not gone. Not off somewhere alone while the other experiences the most painful heartache they'd ever felt in their life.

The limo would still be downstairs, waiting to take them to the airport. With only a moment's hesitation, the solitary figure in the lonely bedroom, stinging with resentment and spite and sadness, ran down the stairs and out the front door.

"Take me to the airport," the person panted, ignoring the look of pity from the driver, and rolled up the window when they found they couldn't.

She must've looked absurd in her wedding dress as she toted her checked bag and carry-on alone, as she filed onto the plane and shoved a bag that wouldn't fit into the overhead compartment, as she sat down and taped a picture to the seat next to her, right there on 7B.

A blonde woman across the aisle gave her a dirty look. Easy for her, she had a handsome British man next to her and holding her hand. Elena had heard his accent when he offered to give her a hand with her bag.

The light for their seat belts came on as the plane was about to take off. She'd barely made it to the airport in time. Then, they were off in the air.

A hot flight attendant stopped by her and gave her a smile filled with sympathy. "Your husband's joining you on a later flight, huh?"

Elena gave a laugh that sounded every bit the crazy she was feeling. "No, my fiancé left me at the alter and now I'm going on our honeymoon alone. Do you have any Jack Daniels?" She looked interestedly at the array of mini bottles that she doubted would do the kind of damage she desperately needed.

The man looked chagrinned and handed her a couple of bottles, though it was probably against their regulation to give her more than one.

She pulled out the tray next to hers and gave it a pat. "Some for him too, cutie." She winked.

Then he grinned and put a few more on his tray. It was probably more familiar territory for him to deal with flirting rather than put-upon broken-hearteds. His nametag informed her that he was Tyler, and he had dark hair, olive skin, and a beautiful face that she doubted could cloud the truth. A guy like him probably wouldn't have snuck out on her like an asshole. She subtly felt him up when he walked past, and saw him shake his head slightly. But she knew there would be a smile on his face.

After a few of the bottles, Elena did start to feel a little buzz. She clicked off her belt when the sign indicated it was safe and leaned over Stefan's empty seat to chat with her neighbors, the blonde and the brit. "You guys going to the Sweetheart's Hotel for your honeymoon, like me?"

The brit said yes, while his girlfriend focused on a different part of the sentence. "We aren't married."

"Yeah?" Elena was surprised. Guy—Nik, she later learned—must really have loved his girlfriend if he was taking her on such an expensive romantic getaway. As is the case with many drunks, Elena was seeing these strangers through friend-goggles and she inched closer to them. "You should get married," she implored. "There should be a perfect wedding with two people who love each other."

"I'd be happy to marry her, love." The man responded. "But Caroline here is a little gun-shy." He grinned.

She hit his arm and glared. "You're encouraging her, Nik!"

She was starting to get emotional. "I need more to drunk." Elena paused. "Drink. I need to drink to get drink." She confused herself and went on. "You two look so great together." She informed them with melancholy. "I know this great little church in Virginia. It's beautiful. Would have been a great place for a wedding," she mused.

"Steward Tyler!" She called suddenly, facing the front of the plane. "Coke and whisky for my husband!" She demanded.

Amused, he brought her a drink in a plastic cup. With one sip she could taste it was a double. She gave him her most appreciative smile.

When she watched him walk away this time, she caught the eyes of a passenger who was looking back. He was gorgeous. Black hair and blue eyes. Vaguely familiar, but not in an everyday kind of way. She gave him a small smile, suddenly shy, but he just looked at her intensely.

Then the plane rocked dangerously and some of dark drink sloshed all over her lacy wedding dress. "Fuck!" She swore. But then she laughed. Like she even really cared about the dress anymore.

The seatbelt light was relit and an overhead voice boomed on the speakers. "Good evening. This is your Captain speaking. My name is Ric and we're about halfway to your destination, the beautiful Cancun. It looks like there's some turbulence up ahead, so just buckle your seatbelts and hold tight. The attendants will be around if you need anything. I'll have you there in no time."

But Elena wasn't listening, she was standing up, lifting the dress up and over her head and flinging it into the empty seat. She was left in only her thin, short slip. It was plain, almost just like any small sundress, only silkier. The attendants rushed to her and forced her to sit just as the plane dipped and straightened hazardously. She gripped Tyler's muscular forearms and laughed breathlessly.

She felt alive for the first time that day. The shock was finally beginning to wear off and it was beginning to _hurt._ She needed distraction. She downed her drink with one quick gulp.

Eventually the turbulence ceased and they were free to walk about again. Elena was surprised that so many people got up. They didn't really walk around, but they just stood and chatted sociably.

"It's a hidden gem," Nik told her, now standing next to her seat.

"What?"

"The plane. They don't make them like this anymore. They certainly have more stringent rules on other crafts." He winked as he told Elena. "It's why I like it."

"It's certainly interesting," Elena said. She'd been on a few flights before, but never on such a small plane, with such an obscure airline. Stefan had done it to save money, but it looked like it was one of the few things he'd done right.

"It's a bit too crowded for my liking. I insisted on first class, but Caroline was…stubborn." He said the word with relish, as though he loved the idea of her obstinacy.

At her name, Caroline sashayed over. She glared at her boyfriend. "It's excessive."

"Forgive me, dear, that on our spur of the moment getaway to _Cancun_, I crossed the line by requesting first class seats." His berry lips twitched with amusement.

Caroline huffed and offered Elena something. "Smoke?"

Elena's mouth dropped. "You can't have that on here!" She hissed. Even through her alcohol-fuzzed thoughts, she knew that.

She raised her eyebrows. "Calm down. It's medicinal. Besides, I'm sure they're more worried about what drugs come out of Mexico than what goes in."

Some crazy part of Elena, the part that wanted to be different and not miserable, decided that weed was a good idea. She grinned, Caroline's laidback words easily convincing her. She took the bud and puffed in a deep breath.

She laughed as she gently coughed out the smoke.

She looked up, afraid of getting caught by attendants, when she saw the man from before starting watching her. She didn't look away.

* * *

An hour and a few cocktails later and Elena was leading her own plane pity party. She treated it rather like a reception. She accepted congratulations graciously and found it hard to think of anything but her new friends.

Music played on the loudspeakers, some upbeat country song about broken hearts, courtesy of the captain. Every once and a while, he interrupted to give updates and all the tipsy people on the plane, herself included, would cheer and applaud for Captain Ric. She swayed in spot along with a few others, including her new pothead friends. But her mystery man didn't join her and that was putting a small damper on her mood.

"Another round!" She called out to cheers.

It was the fifth time she'd done so, and by now the flight attendants were getting a bit testy. A beautiful woman came up to her. "I'm not sure you can afford to pay for the drinks you've already had, ma'am."

Elena squinted at the name tag, the name a bit blurry. "Well, Bon, I have this!" She produced a credit card with a flourish.

Bonnie took it without saying a word and walked off. Elena watched her go happily. Now that she'd gotten rid of her, none of the attendants – who were all currently in their own cabin, avoiding the passengers – would bother her any more.

A voice at the back of her neck made her shiver. "Does she know that's not technically yours?"

Elena turned around. Everything went black around her, except for him. "I'm not sure she cares," she whispered. And just like in every slow motion daydream she'd ever had, they both leaned into the other and kissed.

Kissing a stranger in the sky didn't seem like it was maybe the smartest idea Elena had ever had. But she was allowed to be a little reckless after the day she had. She grabbed onto the lapels of his suit jacket and pulled him harder against her face, loving every moment he held her.

But then something began to bug her, something she would have noticed a lot sooner if her brain wasn't a little hazy and she pulled away. "Wait, how did you know it wasn't mine?"

He stared at her lips and panted a little. Elena shivered. She hadn't known blue eyes could hold so much desire. She couldn't hold their gaze and her eyes dropped down to his still open lips. They'd been so soft and hard at the same time.

Before she could remember why she'd stopped in the first place, Elena leaned in and began to kiss him again. It was slower this time, but somehow more urgent. As if they both knew that this wouldn't end in a kiss.

Elena moved his hands from her waist to her ass. She tugged him toward the back of the small plane, ignoring all the people who were politely ignoring them. She didn't even hear Caroline's catcall.

She stopped at the small bathroom door. Unoccupied.

Damon couldn't wait to get her alone. Or, as alone on a plane as they could get. In the small bathroom, they could barely both stand. So he pushed her against the door and lifted her legs around his waist.

He attacked her neck with his mouth and teeth. The silky dress she was wearing was maddening against his fingers. He inched it further and further up her thighs. She pushed herself into him and clutched the hair at the back of his neck to encourage him.

Damon didn't know how he pulled away, not with her wiggling against him and desperate, but he did. He set her down.

She didn't understand at first. She went on her tiptoes and tried to keep kissing him.

"Elena, wait. I have to tell you something."

She finally stopped kissing him. "How do you know my name?" She frowned, but she didn't move her hands from the back of his head and his shoulder.

Damon moved back as much as the small space would allow him. He didn't want to tell her. He wished he could just take her against the door like he wanted so badly. She still trusted him. She shouldn't. "Because you almost had mine."

"What?"

"Salvatore. My last name."

Her eyes widened. "You're Damon."

He nodded.

Her hands finally dropped and she looked down. She bit her lip. "But you don't speak to him anymore. He was always talking about that."

"I was still going to go to his wedding. When I learned what he did—" He ran a hand through his hair and looked away. "He was an idiot. I didn't know you, but I couldn't let you go off to some other country alone. It sounds stupid, but…I'm sort of used to cleaning up his messes."

She gave him a sharp look. "I'm a mess to be cleaned up?" She hated that even though she was offended, he was right. She was a mess.

"No, _he's_ the one who messed up." He grabbed her shoulders to stop her from turning to leave as she'd started to. "Please, I'm sorry."

She shivered at the feel of his warm hands on her cold, bare shoulders. She looked into his eyes and knew she was screwed. And hopefully, in more than just the one way. She didn't have the inhibitions to resist the temptation. She had to keep herself from jumping him. Whatever means necessary. The last thing she life needed was another complication to her failed engagement. "Why don't you talk to him anymore?"

He seemed surprised by her question. "He, uh, he stole my girlfriend."

"Want payback?" She offered herself shamelessly, sliding the straps of her slip off her shoulders.

He was going to be reasonable about this. He was going to say no. But then her hand started toying with him through his dress pants. "Yeah." He finally conceded. "Want a rebound?" He couldn't take his eyes off her body.

They were already kissing when she nodded.

He'd shrugged out of his jacket and she'd unbuttoned his undershirt, when he stopped. He gave her a quick kiss on the mouth and then rested her forehead against hers. "I don't want to be a rebound," he finally admitted. It was painful, but he didn't want to be a second choice.

She put her hands to his cheeks and pulled his face so she could look into his eyes. Her eyes were clear and somewhat relieved. "And I don't want to be revenge. All I want is you. I wanted you before I knew who you were."

"You aren't revenge." He assured her, stroking her arms. "And I want you. But I don't know if this is the right thing to do."

She smiled and put her arms around his neck. "How does it feel?" Her naked body felt amazing against him. She ducked closer and put her head on his chest and rubbed her hands across his back, like she was memorizing every muscle.

He bucked into her against his resolve. He'd never been so turned on in his whole life. And he was in a small, dingy airplane bathroom. He held her close, feeling her bare flesh under his fingertips and digging in.

"Right." He said, and it was more a declaration than an answer to her question. He pulled her up and set her on the tiny sink.

She grinned and opened her legs and bid him to settle between them. "Damon," she moaned when he finally entered her.

He'd never met this girl before in his life, and already, at that one whisper of his name, he knew there would never be anyone else who said it quite like her. He slid into her slow. He didn't know how long he could hold himself together, but he wanted to drag it out. To linger in this moment because she might never want him again.

He pulled out so slowly that Elena was sure he was torturing her. She pulled his hair impatiently. "Please." She had no shame in begging.

But he just pushed inside of her even slower.

She was so demanding. Every part of her. Her hands tugged for more. Her voice pleaded. Her lips sucked his desperately. Her nipples hardened angrily and her center was gravity, pulling him closer in.

He was on his last strokes, he hadn't lasted very long. Her smell, her hair, her small noises, her _everything_ was driving him crazy.

Elena could see his back muscles rippling in the mirror behind him as he pushed into her those last few times. That sight, coupled with his hand suddenly reaching between them and pressing down hard had her cry out.

Damon covered her mouth with his so she would not get so loud that they might knock the door down.

After panting and shivering into each other's arms for a few minutes, they started dressing. It wasn't easy in the tight quarters, but Elena surprised herself when she realized she was actually having fun with the challenge.

One arm was still wrapped around her waist when he reached for the plastic handle that would open the door. She put her hand on his to stop him. "Do you want to come on my honeymoon with me?" When she looked up she saw him staring at her, his face unreadable. "Well, uh," she laughed and looked away with embarrassment and her face grew pink when he didn't answer. "All the reservations are for two."

His fingers found her chin and tilted her to meet his eyes. He gave her a soft kiss. "I'd be honored if you'd have me."

He opened the door and led her out.

When he turned away, Elena put a hand on her lips. It wasn't a kiss. It was promises and innocence. It was all eroticism, pure and potent. It was _confusing. _It was good.

* * *

It was a lifetime, her two weeks with Damon.

They did everything. Shared the suite and went snorkeling and lounged and kissed. They hardly knew each other, but every second she had with him felt like a puzzle piece, each one fitting and filling a hole she didn't know she had. And now she was starting to see a whole new picture, one she had no idea existed.

Damon could have easily been a big brother, making sure his Stefan's mistakes didn't lead an innocent woman into trouble. His commitment could have been familial, a chore in an exotic locale. But it was so much more. Damon had no reason to give himself to her, to devote himself the way he did. He had nothing to gain, but he did it anyway.

And she was terrified that things might be different now that they were back in the real world. The champagne they'd shared on the return flight was starting to catch up with her. That, and jet lag, and the horrible reality of being back from vacation so she could go to work and pay her bills and buy groceries. Alone. Unless. The fragmented thought filled her with so much joy and hope that she couldn't let herself complete it. It was too fragile, too precious to risk.

She sat on the edge of the baggage claim belt and watched for her ridiculous teal, cheetah pattern luggage. "Damon?" She asked. "Will you take me home?" Her vision flickered.

It wasn't really what she was asking. Or, he hoped it wasn't. Because Damon thought he understood.

He caught her shoulder before she slumped over and helped her up. He'd collected both their pieces, and managed to carry them both while guiding Elena. "Only if you'll let me go home with you."

She smiled in response and he kissed the top of her head.


End file.
